


love is the poetry of the senses

by geeabee



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Service Top, Smut, They are so in love, kinda i'd say, lowercase intended, self-praise kink, so so soft, soft, there are so many feelings in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29577636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeabee/pseuds/geeabee
Summary: george leans forward and presses their lips together for a few broken kisses, the sound of the kisses that mingle with their short breaths create their own personal orchestra that plays in their ears. they pull away after a long moment.| title is a quote by honore de balzac
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 169





	love is the poetry of the senses

dream gently caresses george’s chest, fingertips dragging long lines of promises into his supple skin. george’s breath hitches when dream leans down to kiss him as tenderly as he can manage, an expression of utter devotion.

the honey-coloured light emanating from the small lamp on their bedside table washes george in a heavenly glow. dream’s eyes glaze over his silky skin, faint light brown ovals blanket his torso from past times of their sweet intimacy. outside, the wind howls and branches of the old oak tree tap soft rasps against the ornate window as moonlight swims through its branches. it’s early in the morning, around two am. the rest of their city sleeps, save for those that are sharing the same secrets dream and george keep during this quiet daze that shifts their world from night to dawn. they haven’t slept at all; they’re too busy touching each other tenderly, whispering sentiments of their hearts to each other.

‘i love you, baby,’ dream murmurs into their kiss, the words barely make it to george’s ears before dream says ‘i want you, right now,’ so cautiously, so softly. dream trails his kisses down to george’s neck, breath warm against george’s wintry skin, which is pale white and icy to the touch. he, so lovingly, places open-mouthed kisses on george’s collarbone, tongue fitting against the hollow areas above. dream leans back up, not quite sitting on george’s lap, just ghosting his hips. he drinks in the sight of george laid underneath him in the dim light of their bedroom. _i don’t think i can handle him like this, so gentle, so open_ , dream thinks.

right now, dream feels intrusive looking at george so unabashedly, like an atheist finding themselves walking into the midst of a daunting church service. dream doesn’t consider himself religious, but he’ll worship george willingly any day.

he observes how george’s skin flushes into a pale peach colour, dusting his body with raw want.

‘stop staring,’ george whispers below him and dream blinks slowly as he meets george’s hickory eyes; this moment is when dream decides that it’s his favourite colour, reminding him of the subtle, nervous glances they secretly share.

dream swears that the clock in the corner of the room has stopped ticking, leaving them in the cacophony of their breathing, the howling wind, and the faint sound of skin shuffling over skin. time has stopped, just so dream can mould the image of george laying so prettily under him into his mind forever.

‘i can’t help myself, darling,’ dream whispers back. george shifts underneath him, bringing his hands to lay on dream’s hips gingerly. dream grabs a hand from his hip and brings it to his mouth, placing kisses fondy on his fingertips that travel to his palm. george’s hands only ever radiate warmth, the rest of his body is frigid, but maybe it’s like that so dream can bring george to lie under his head, warming his body and filling him with a fire that will burn him from the inside out.

the intimacy of the room is almost suffocating and it laces their lustful, telepathic pleas with emotions of unconditional love and affection.

‘dream. please,’ george whimpers under dream, his fingers coaxing themselves into the flesh of dream’s hips. dream can’t help but take his time with george, wanting to make his pleas and whines incoherent with desire. dream rests himself over george, his thighs laying on either side of george’s. he continues his mission to coat george in fresh, beautiful colour. he creates a work of stained glass using george’s glassy skin to abstractly convey his passion. dream’s teeth graze over the sensitive area under his ear and george sighs in contentedness. dream feels hands intertwine themselves in his locks of blond hair, tugging at his scalp. dream inhales sharply then lets his exhale fawn over george’s pink skin.

‘ready?’ is all dream has to say before george nods his head, his eyes are glazed over with sensuality and dream can feel his want radiate from every pore on his skin. he overflows with love for dream, and dream relishes in it.

‘so pretty, baby. do you think you’re pretty?’ dream muses, looking at george for some kind of response. george is hesitant to reply, feeling vulnerable both physically and emotionally. dream could almost cry at the hesitance, at how george opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly shuts it afterward.

‘do you think you’re pretty?’ dream presses again, hushed and serene, as he rubs circles into george’s jawline. he watches george tense up then melt into dream’s hand, nuzzling his cheek into it.

‘i…think i’m pretty,’ george finally says as his whole face reddens. dream leans down and rewards the praise with peppered kisses to the corners of his mouth, eyelashes, nose, and every single freckle that graces his refined face. george feels like sunday laziness, stumbling in the dark, staying underwater a few seconds too long. he consists of all the idle beauty that makes dream’s little life worth living.

‘good. i love you, george,’ dream mumbles in between chaste kisses. george pulls on dreams roots again, earning a low moan of satisfaction from above him. dream can’t help himself anymore.

‘i love you too, dreamie,’ george pulls dream’s face in for a long, passionate kiss. their tongues mesh together as they explore the inside of each other’s mouths. his lip balm tastes like cherry, but his mouth tastes like whiskey.

while they kiss, dream’s hands float to the walnut bedside table, opening a small drawer and fishing out a bottle of lube. he unscrews the cap and, from behind the bottle, he notices george’s eyes light up expectantly; he smiles despite himself. he squeezes some of the room-temperate gel onto his fingers before setting it back on the table. he lathers it up and down his fingers, coating them generously.

dream moves off of george and allows him to shimmy his hips so he can sit comfortably on dream’s thighs.

‘so ready aren’t you, baby?’ dream says as he presses his finger around george’s rim. george shudders when dream pushes in knuckle-deep. dream lets out a unsteady sigh of relief as he peers at george from his ruddy bangs. he lets the sight of george’s reactions —his legs spread wide, his hands gripping the merlot-coloured bed sheets tightly, his head lolling to the side, eyes watching dream’s movements through the corners— consume his mind, body, and soul, drowning him in everything related to george. he moves his finger in and out and affectionately runs his other hand up and down george’s body.

‘that’s it,’ dream coos, adding another slicked finger. the whimpers and whines from george reach dream’s ears as he explores with his fingers, trying to find the spot that will break george wide open. he believes he finds it when george moans, cutting off with pants as dream speeds up the pace of his fingers.

‘right there, dream. there, there,’ george gets the words out before he puddles into a mess of babbles. dream relentlessly rubs circles around george’s prostate, watching george begin to rock himself into his fingers. george breaths heavy, looking at dream for solace.

‘i’m right here, such a good boy for me. are you really ready?,” dream questions george as he grabs george’s face kindly and bends towards george, kissing his chin. dream’s eyes burn into george as he simpers.

‘just fuck me, dream, please. you’ve been teas-’ george is cut off as dream shoves his fingers back into his, causing a moan to rip from his throat. the sensation in his ass lingers a moment before dream pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at george’s now-red face, mumbling _sorry i had to_ as he does so.

dream grabs the lube and squirts more onto his hand before fisting his leaking cock with it. dream shivers at the feathery touch after his dick has been abandoned for so long. he taps the softness of george’s milky thighs, signaling for him to wrap his legs around dream’s waist; george does so willingly.

‘i’ll fuck you, but only after you tell me something you like about yourself,’ dream whispers in his ear, tracing his earlobe with his tongue. george grows impatient and glares at dream above him. dream will let the daggers shooting from george’s eyes stab him if it means he’ll get to hear divine self-praises fall from george’s red-kissed mouth.

‘i don’t want to,’ george fights back. dream feigns leaving as he pulls himself from between george’s legs. george grabs his wrist in concern, dragging him back to his previous position where he settles over george. desire must have overruled his embarrassment.

‘okay, but i- i- can you go first? about me?’ george rebuttals and dream stares at him blankly before opening his mouth.

‘how much more could i say about you, george?’ he leans down and their noses bump until dream rests his forehead on george’s, ‘you’re beautiful, talented, caring. you’re all mine, for me alone. peace in a raging storm. somehow, it’s like you've protected me, from myself, from others. i could never repay you, could never replace your importance,’ dream grabs george’s hips, every exhale blows tufts of george’s hair upwards.

‘i love you,’ george murmurs before finishing with, ‘i feel like myself with you, i’m so proud of myself, meeting you and opening up to you. i’m…so strong,’ dream feels his heart swell with pride, knowing how hard it was for george to do; vulnerability is a tough concept to conquer. he notices the sleek streak of a tear line on george’s puffy face.

‘oh, darling,’ dream’s whispers, his voice shaking ever so slightly, ‘don’t cry. praise yourself again,’ dream orders, voice hardening barely —if george wasn’t listening for it, he wouldn’t have heard the stern tone enter his once comforting voice.

‘i’m intelligent, honest, capable,’ george brings his hand to wipe his tear-stained face, hiccupping, but dream beats him to it, pecking tender kisses around his eyes and cheeks.

‘good boy,’ dream finally lines up and pushes his hips against george languidly, bottoming out all at once. george moans and his head falls back against the pillow behind his head, his fluffy hair haloing his head, creating a god of an angel. dream can only stare at how pretty george looks under him, once again he says,

‘tell me how pretty you are,’ it’s a command that george, after having answered it already, feels comfortable saying.

‘i’m so pretty. i’m so pretty when i’m lying under you. so pretty taking your cock willingly,’ george’s half-lidded gaze meets dream’s. the confidence and dirty words make dream’s dick twitch with anticipation, he thrusts into george, burying his cock inside his heated walls. his hands trail from george’s hip to briefly find a patch of george’s hair that he holds onto like a rosary, praying and thanking —despite his lack of faith— whoever granted dream such a beautiful lover.

‘you’re so tight, so beautiful. you feel so good, don’t you, baby,’ dreams rhythmically moves his hips and george’s body rocks back and forth with each thrust. the only sounds in the room are their crude moans and the slap of skin against skin.

‘please, dream. i’ll look pretty cumming on your cock, just for you,’ dream is surprised to hear the dirty praise drip from george’s lips without any prompting from him.

‘i’m so proud of you,’ dream’s movements slow down and george whines at the lazy pace, ‘so proud of how confident you are. i love hearing you sing your own praises,’ dream leans down to kiss george with every once of love he can place into one, romantic kiss. dream’s hips speed up again, rutting into george fervently. it’s only a matter of time before dream finds the spot that reveals george fully, opening his body readily.

‘ _oh_ ,’ is all george can say before babbling, ‘there, don’t stop, _please_ ,’ dream watches george succumb to the pleasure. there’s a blissed out smile on his face, lighting up his expression. the flush in his cheeks burns into his skin with searing love. dream can’t take it, he can’t handle him.

‘you’re doing so well, baby, so dirty,’ dream is breathless from the tightness he thrusts into, watching as his dick disappears in george’s ass over and over. he moans and grabs george, lifting him up off the bed. dream allows his legs’ ruthless grip on his waist to slide down until george is sitting in dream’s lap, on dream’s cock.

‘ _yes_ ,’ is what seems to be the only word george can offer at the sudden change in position, he’s too fucked-out to express much else. dream finds himself buried deeper into george in this position, his hips snap up, testing the new arrangement and creating a filthy sound that echoes in their bedroom. he’s closer to george’s face now, able to drink in the perfect appearance of george’s delicate features. he brings his lips to george’s jawline, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

‘fucking…please, baby,’ george gets out, gasping for more air. dream catches his lips, and they kiss, uncoordinated, as george’s body thrusts up and down with every connection of hips. dream continues at his pace while bringing a hand to george’s leaking dick, thumbing the head of it. george slumps his forehead against dream’s sweaty shoulder, moaning _finally_ into his skin and biting his lip. dream shakes george off his shoulder, preferring to relish in every little expression of pleasure that flashes across his face.

‘do you think i’m beautiful, dream?’ george whines in front of him, his eyes find dream’s again in the lowly-lit light of the bedroom. they stare into each other; the eye contact breaks only when dream fucks into his prostate particularly hard. dream is rendered speechless as the question lingers in the hazy air.

‘i- i think you’re more than beautiful george. you’re...breathtaking, stunning, a god among men,’ is what dream offers in response.

‘i’m a god?’ george asks, chuckling at the strange taste of the words on his tongue, followed by a mewl as dream drags a fingernail across the head of his cock.

‘you’re _my_ god,’ is what dream replies with. dream’s hand on george’s cock speeds up and he watches george’s pupils blow out. neither of them saw his orgasm coming, but it didn’t stop either of them from continuing their movements. george blinks without his eyelids ever touching, moaning dream’s name, and lacing his hands around dream’s neck. dream strokes his dick, smearing the warm cum from the base to the tip, stopping shortly after. george shivers and bites down on dream’s neck. he allows himself to be pounded into, making sure he doesn’t miss any sensations from his orgasm. dream watches george’s eyes close tight and his mouth open wide, the song of his last few moans and gasps escape past his full, wetted lips. his hands tremble as they play with dream’s hair, something to ground him as he savours the last of his orgasm.

dream has seen nothing more breathtaking than george cumming, open and pretty and vulnerable. he allows himself the smugness of knowing that he’s the only one that george will cum so willingly for, so pliant, so needy.

dream chases his own orgasm as he watches george bite his lip hard, discomfort and overstimulation kicking in. it takes just one more deep rut into george that causes cum to spill from the head of his cock, coating george’s heat with the white, viscous liquid.

he leans into george, wrapping the hands that previously dug into george’s hips harshly, around george’s torso. breathing heavily as he hugs george loosely. george leans into the embrace as well, hands messaging dream’s scalp softly. he doesn’t bother pulling george off of him, instead he allows the intimacy of being inside george, even after cumming, indulge his mind, covering his body with goosebumps at the thought. george’s raw musk, sweaty skin, and warm spit fill his nose; the sweet scents of sex that dream finds comfort in after their most intimate nights. all he can smell and hear and feel is george, george, george.

‘i love you so much, dreamie,’ george leans back to kiss the freckles on dream’s face, ‘did you mean everything you said? am i your god?’ dream feels his face heat up with embarrassment as george recites the words dream had said so confidently before. of course dream means everything he said, but how does he explain that to george?

he speaks slowly, ‘you mean so much to me george. i can’t explain your presence in my life but it’s…everything to me. not my god, but my universe, too. your love is unlike any i’ve ever experienced. so, of course i meant everything i said. i can’t get enough of you,’ dream places a slow kiss on george’s lips. george’s eyes are like a cloud of smoke during a forest fire, murky, devastating, untame. he might lose himself if he stares too long, but maybe he doesn’t mind being lost.

george, flustered and playing with dream’s hair absentmindedly, says quickly, ‘i really liked whatever play we were doing…the praising…uh, self-praising?’ george looks anywhere but dream, suddenly finding the framed picture of them standing on a dock interesting; their cheeks and noses were flush with the cold weather and in the picture. they look giddy, almost childish, as they stare at each other so sickeningly loving.

dream brings his hands up to george’s shoulders as he eases into a rhythm of messages, loosening up george’s rigid muscles.

‘it’s okay to tell me what you like, and even dislike for that matter,’ dream places the pad of his fingertip under george’s chin, bringing his gaze back to dream’s eyes. george’s eyes flit back and forth between his. dream smiles and george’s heart aches at how gentle he’s being.

‘i liked uh, how it felt; not at first, but as it went on i _really_ liked it. it felt gratifying and vulnerable and arousing to do something so intimate while saying all those emotional praises. d-did you like it?’ george asks, his voice hushed.

‘i loved it, darling, ‘ dream started, ‘the confidence you picked up throughout turned me on. i loved hearing self-worth falling from your lips, even if they were dirty,’ dream teases, poking george’s ribs playfully. george giggled and winced at the same time. dream still hadn’t pulled out yet, they were still relishing in the comfort of complete connection, feeling drawn together at the visceral privateness of it. dream decides to finally lift george from his now-soft dick. george gasps in surprise at the cum that now drips down his thighs. they would need to clean up in a bit.

‘i’m not even sure where it came from. i just wanted you to reciprocate the love i feel towards you, and aim it back at yourself. it was really hot, hearing you say those things,’ dream admits.

‘i think we can arrange for it to be a…a normal practice then?’ dream hums in approval as he gets up from the bed, heading towards the door to grab a warm washcloth. it takes him some time, but he eventually brings the washcloth back, along with a small tray of chocolates and warm, decaf coffee prepared how george likes it. george nibbles on a piece of dark chocolate as dream begins cleaning him off.

dream, once again, feels intrusive lovingly watching and cleaning george’s body off; he can’t get enough. he prefers to be the one to initiate aftercare if it means that he’ll glide a warm washcloth over george’s soft skin while he presses innocent kisses to his neck, chest, stomach. dream thrives on sharing these private moments with _his_ george.

dream rubs circles on george’s skin, taking the mess into the hands of the washcloth. finishing the rest of the cleaning up, dream throws the washcloth in the laundry basket sitting in the corner of their room. he grabs them both a pair of plush sweatpants before standing at the foot of their bed.

dream puts his own sweatpants on and notices the grabby hands that george aims at him. his heart jumps at the adorable gesture, george’s cheeks have a rose blush on them and it reminds dream of a tinted glass vase, delicate and translucent.

‘you’re so cute, honey,’ dream coos, ‘you want me to put them on for you?’ dream asks, a smile consuming every feature on his face. _his lover, his god._

‘yes, please. if you don’t mind,’ george replies, sitting up on his calves.

‘of course i don’t mind,’ dream grabs george’s hand as he crawls to the edge of the bed, still naked. his legs swing out from underneath him as he sits next to dream, the weight from both of them indenting the mattress.

dream kneels in front of george and grabs each leg separately, pulling the cuffs of the sweatpants around his ankles. dream motions for both of george’s hands as he lifts him from the bed, pulling the sweatpants up so they rest around his hip bones. george leans forward and presses their lips together for a few broken kisses, the sound of the kisses that mingle with their short breaths create their own personal orchestra that plays in their ears. they pull away after a long moment.

then they fall back into bed together. the furnace in their house hums to life and they enjoy the few beats of white noise. dream turns off the lamp that once graced george’s skin at the beginning of their intimacy; the room is now washed in darkness and they find each other in it easily. the wind has died down some, only to make way for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the window.

dream pulls their comforter up and over their bodies, draping them in the soft fabric. despite this, george’s skin has returned to its normal state of frigidness; dream, with skin like a roaring fireplace, allows george to snuggle into him, legs messily laced together, fingers intertwined in front of their chests. they chat hushed and mindlessly until they finally slip out one last promise of _i love you_ before drifting into a contented sleep.

the last thing dream thinks about is waking up and worshipping george all over again, showing him his devotional love and the exceptional limits he’ll go to make sure he feels safe and loved.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys it's me again,, i'm back but this time with some lovey-dovey smut. and yeah y'all did read that correctly: self-praise kink.......i listened to a podcast and the hosts mentioned loving it and i just couldn't get it out of my head. what better way to project than to write fanfic about fucking,,,,,minecraft youtubers?....... this is actually the first time i've ever wrote smut, but it's not like i haven't read that shit ;o
> 
> comments are always appreciated meaning constructive criticism, praise, or whatever else it is you wanna say :]
> 
> my tumblr is time4fundy i dont post original content (yet?), but i do reblog a lot of sleepy bois and other dsmp brainrot


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